


our hearts were jagged stones in our fists

by areyoumarriedriver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/pseuds/areyoumarriedriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve thousand years away and across time and space, and still flirting, judging by the wink she shot at the camera. As frustrating as she was, he had to admire his own taste – because he’d not met anyone quite like her before. She irritated and thrilled him, set his hearts pounding and as a new side effect – perhaps just this new body but he felt his blood sing through his veins as he watched her confrontation on the screen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our hearts were jagged stones in our fists

**_our hearts were jagged stones in our fists_ ** __

It had been fun, he thought. Little Amelia Pond and a crack in her wall. He’d been brand new, full of possibility, full of potential – full of the ability to live on. Fresh start – he was what he made of himself, but what he’d made of himself was someone who said five minutes but meant twelve years.

Still.

He had saved the day – a little late but he had ensured Prisoner Zero’s capture. But twelve years (and four psychiatrists) too late. Twelve years was a long time to live with a psychic being in your house, in your head. It was a long time to have a crack in your wall, the universe whispering to you every night.

Poor Amelia Pond.

To the moon and back, he’d said – running his hands over the new console as he whispered to his oldest and most dear companion. Just a little run – test the old girl out. But the moon had been _boring_ as moons were wont to be. All dust and excellent _bouncing_ but definitely, incredibly _boring_.  He supposed he could have aimed later, but once the colony and the university were built, it became less a heavenly body and more a tourist trap – and he hated that.

Humans.

So determined to stake claim to every rock they came across. They were forever stabbing flags into unknown soil as if the universe had been created merely to be inhabited by them.

So he left the moon. He thought about going back – back to Amelia and taking her on adventures, but he felt the weight of those twelve years every time she looked at him – full to the brim of belief and expectation. All he had to offer in return was madness. Madness and the universe and it would mark her, he knew – it always marked them. All of them.

His hearts clenched at the thought – at the memory, so he pushed it aside, letting his old girl decide the next location. If it was time for him to get Amelia (and he knew he would. Something about her... it drew him. There was a bigger mystery about her) then she would take him there, he knew. He grinned as he watched the time rotor rise and fall, the melodious scraping noise echoing as she landed. With a quick adjustment to the bowtie and a tug of the tweed, he quite liked it really; he leapt down the stairs, eager to greet the next adventure.

“A _museum_?” he spat the question out with distaste, glaring over his shoulder through the open doorway. The TARDIS simply hummed, and while he knew she couldn’t _really_ sound irritated – damned if she didn’t do a good imitation of what a ship ought to sound like while irritated. “Fine, _fine_. A museum. Oh yay, what treasures _shall_ I discover?”

He mumbled to himself as he darted through displays, ignoring other patrons as he went. “Wrong.” He trotted over to the next display. “Oh _terribly_ wrong – honestly who researches these things?! I hope you didn’t pay much to get in here,” he spoke in an aside to the elderly woman who stood next to him. She opened her mouth and he pointed to the next case in excitement. “Oh, mine!”

He ran across and leaned over the glass, “Oh and even _wronger_. I cannot believe people do this for a _profession_ ,” he spoke aloud, but no one responded as he read the placard.

“Mummy, what’s the writing say?” he heard a little girl ask from behind him and he turned as the child’s mother glanced over her shoulder.

“It doesn’t say darling, only says it’s untranslatable.”

“Untranslatable? That’s impossible, _everything_ is translatable and I should know – I speak over nine hundred different languages-” his voice died as he arrived across from them, staring down at the small black box with wonder.

“So what’s it then?” the girl looked up at him, while the Mum eyed him suspiciously, but he paid neither of them any mind as he stared down into the glass case. It wasn’t possible. Of course – he supposed it’s not that it _wasn’t_ possible – anything was possible really – but it so took him by surprise, he couldn’t speak for a moment as he stared down at the words, a smile curling reluctantly along the edge of his mouth, despite his best efforts to stop it.

“A home box, from one of the old starliners. But the writing – the graffiti on top – old high Gallifreyan. Lost language of the timelords.” The woman snorted, rolling her eyes and moving on to the next display. The little girl remained behind, listening avidly even though he was mostly talking to himself. “There were days when these words could burn stars, raise up empires, and topple gods.”

The girl looked up at him, tugging on his sleeve until he blinked and looked down at her. “What’s it say?” she whispered and he grinned wider.

“It says _hello, sweetie_.” His hearts raced with the words. Oh that woman – he’d met her twice since that first time – and each time he’d been, to put it simply, terrible. Mourning Donna and everything else that had happened so recently – so fresh in his mind – and she’d strode out of seemingly nowhere,  a smug grin and a ‘hello sweetie’ as if she’d labelled him as such merely to irritate him. It’d worked if that was her aim, he supposed. Asgard was the last time he’d seen her – so close after Mars. “It’s a message for me, you see.” He confided in an aside to the small girl who frowned.

“Like in code, because only you can read it? That’s cool!” She bounced, before her mother called to her sharply from several displays over. The Doctor leaned over the glass, his face enthralled as he read the words over and over again, his eyes following the symbols and patterns, curling around her conjugation and practically perfect punctuation. She could write – and presumably read – Gallifreyan. Of course he must have taught her – _will_ teach her at some point, but he felt the strangest burning in his chest – right between his hearts. And somehow, though he’d greeted her every other time with the ghost of her tears as she’d died haunting him – that was him then, and this was him _now_ and surely there might be a difference.

Only one way to find out, of course. And this was why the TARDIS had taken him here – so he grinned, his hearts racing as he pulled out his sonic.

The little girl grinned and waved in a blur as he ran past, alarm bells ringing and the home box clutched under his arm.

_xx_

He laughed as he hooked the home box up to the monitor, giggling to himself as he adjusted the screen, locating the security footage.

And there she was.

River Song.

Twelve thousand years away and across time and space, and _still_ flirting, judging by the wink she shot at the camera. As frustrating as she was, he had to admire his own taste – because he’d not met anyone quite like her before. She irritated and thrilled him, set his hearts pounding and as a new side effect – perhaps just this new body but he felt his blood sing through his veins as he watched her confrontation on the screen.

As soon as he heard the coordinates, his breath stole from his chest and his eyes widened. She was mad. Absolutely and utterly _mad_ , but it spoke of such a level of trust on her part, that he felt that same warm glow in his chest, spooling through his limbs and stirring him even as he scrambled to input the coordinates.

There was no rush of course, _time travel_ and all, but adrenaline surged through him and he scrambled around the console, even as behind him on the screen the air lock blew open and she flew out of the frame, into the inky blackness beyond.

He flung open the doors, a grin on his face and his hand flung out – and there she was – so seemingly tiny among the stars, but he’d never seen her loom so large as she stretched toward him with ease. As if flinging herself out of spaceships into the vast nothingingness beyond were a normal, everyday occurrence.

Perhaps, for her, it was.

She flew into him, his hand curling around her arm and gravity and momentum doing the rest as she toppled into him, and he hit the floor. He blinked in surprise, because there was suddenly all of _her_ pressed against all of _him_ and his body was still just off the high of regeneration.

She was remarkably _soft_ was the only thought repeating in his head. Soft and she _fit_ everywhere and oh – what if this face was hers? _Her_ Doctor? He blinked up at her with a small grin. “River?”

“We need to follow that ship-” she braced her hands against the floor, moving to push away from him but his hands somehow dropped to her waist and held her there, quite of their own volition.

“Time machine – and I have the home box. It’s not going anywhere,” he heard himself say as she looked down at him with a smile, her body settling against his, tension leaving her frame as she seemed to pour over him, filling every niche within his own frame and his hands relaxed on her hips.

“Well then, I suppose a _proper_ hello could be in order,” she purred the words, her voice low and rich and he felt it vibrate through her frame and into his, sending all sorts of unknown sensations shooting through him as he stared up at her in shock. A proper hello? What was a _proper_ hell-

 _Oh_. Her mouth covered his and he could feel his hearts beating so hard he thought they might fly out of his chest as his hands flew from her waist to flap about in a most useless manner. But she either ignored this or was accustomed to it – because nothing stopped her from continuing to move her mouth over his, and when he emitted a tiny squeak – his mouth opening slightly, her tongue ran along his lips and he froze at the sensation of it.

Her tongue was warm and soft, rough as she licked at his lips and he could feel the effect of it spread through his whole body languorously. His skin seemed to hum and tingle, and his body stiffened as his hearts raced. His hands flailed ineffectually but his mouth opened under hers, his own tongue pushing forward to stroke at hers as his hands re-settled at her hips – his finger brushing against the soft fabric of her dress-

She scrambled back from him, crawling down his frame and staring at him in shock as he blinked in dazed confusion. “You’ve just regenerated,” she exclaimed and he frowned.

“Yes of course I’ve just-” he pushed himself up into a sitting position as he spoke with irritation – he’d not been expecting that but it hadn’t meant he hadn’t _liked_ it. Her mouth was soft and his hands had finally figured out what to do- “Wait – how did you know that?”

“I – I just – you’re – _spoilers_ ,” she finally huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at him. He narrowed his eyes at her and she stared calmly back.

“Well what does that matter?” he asked testily, shifting a bit to ease all of these sudden urges running through him. Her being still sat on his lap, legs on either sides of his hips and the skirt of her dress pulled taut certainly wasn’t helping matters, either.  It had been a while – for him – a rather long while, and the urge combined with the still heady rush of post-regeneration energy and her – well.

 _Well_.

She opened her mouth as if to answer, but stared at him for a moment instead, her mouth finally clicking shut as he grinned and she glared. It should have irritated or annoyed him, but all he could think was that she was flushed when she was irritated and her eyes sparkled in a rather fetching manner.  His body still hummed as she searched for a response, and his hands twitched against the flooring with an urge to touch her. Anywhere.

 _Everywhere_.

Wasn’t it about time that he started knowing her as well as she knew him? After all – why fight the inevitable? Predestination or whatever it was – whatever _they_ were. “Well it _doesn’t_ matter,” she finally answered as she stared at him. “Still _you_ aren’t you? Ridiculous young old man, bit self-important, loves his TARDIS.”

“Oi!” he protested, holding a hand up, “I am _not_ self-important. Also, you forgot hot.”

“Well that’s hardly true of _every_ you now is it sweetie? There were one or two that were... _well_.” She arched a brow at him and he gaped at her, equal parts perturbed and oddly attracted to her because of it. She spoke as if she’d seen every him – which of course she hadn’t. But she also spoke like she’d seen a fair few and while he knew she was a time traveller as well – it made him wonder just how long she’d be popping in and out of his life like this. Years? Decades? Centuries? That last one sent a thrill shooting through him, racing along his extremities as he reached for her, pulling her against him.

He kissed _her_ this time, his mouth fitting over hers like they were made for it. She let out a surprised hum but her eyes closed and her hand reached up to smooth along his cheek as her mouth opened under his. Her fingertips stroked at his jaw and ear, tickling lightly as he wrapped an arm around her waist, the other pressing against her spine, spread wide as he pulled her even closer. She made a tiny noise in the back of her throat – a whinge or a whimper or a hum or a moan or everything all at once – and it made his whole body stir with interest. He liked that sound.

He wanted to hear it again.

Her hand slid into his hair, and he decided as he pressed her against him that he quite liked that, kissing her eagerly and with enthusiasm. He felt out of sync, but she seemed to be compensating for every gaffe he made – pushing against him and stealing his breath from his lungs. He broke away from her with a gasp; a bit thrilled he’d been able to do that, actually. She moved her head closer, her mouth sliding along his cheek and jaw, down the line of his throat as he giggled, his own hands learning the shape of her shoulders and the expanse of her back.

There was a tiny zipper at the top of her dress in the back, and his fingers fumbled for it – overly clumsy and not graceful at all. Finally he was able to grasp the small clasp, and he adjusted his grip before he tugged experimentally. It slid down with ease and he leaned forward to watch over her shoulder, his hand dragging the closure down slowly,  one of his fingers resting above it and gliding down along the exposed skin of her spine as he went.

“Doctor,” her voice was a breathy whinge and he felt like he was suddenly powerful – not a position he often found himself in with this impossible woman, and her secrets and _hair_.

He pressed a soft kiss to the slope of her shoulder as the dress fell victim to gravity, tumbling from her shoulders and gaping along her back. “Tell me a spoiler River. One that doesn’t matter,” he whispered the words into her skin – so cool to the touch of his lips. Her head tilted back and she eased away from him a bit. The front of her dress fell further and he found himself eye to eye with her rather impressive décolletage. He flushed, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest – she looked so smooth, so soft – and his hands slid from her back, intent on touching her.

He reached for the shoulders of her dress first, peeling them down her arms slowly. Once her arms were free she slid them under his tweed, resting them right over his hearts as she stared down at him. “Are you sure?” She wasn’t talking about what he’d just said, he knew, but he played ignorant, because he didn’t want to _think_ right now. He’d just regenerated and he felt lighter than he had in years, or maybe he was more weighed down than ever, everything shoved down, down, down and buried. Either way, she made him feel things – and while he was feeling he couldn’t remember anything else. He was new. This was new.

“Just a small spoiler,’ he begged instead, and leaned forward to kiss her sternum softly, his tongue darting out to taste her as his mouth watered. He tilted his head left, sucking at the soft flesh there and her hands tangled into his hair – _not a girl, definitely not a girl_ -  as she pushed her hips down against his and he bucked underneath her.

“Something that doesn’t matter?” She panted the question out as he lifted his head to drag his teeth along her clavicle. _New teeth_. _Still weird_. He could still feel the hiss and sizzle of regeneration energy pop and bubble through him – he was done, but he could still – still _feel_ it shivering along under his skin. It was the energy, or her, or her _and_ the energy. He couldn’t quite figure it out, so instead he concentrated on pushing her hair back – so much of it – and licking along the column of her throat as she purred, her hips circling over his and causing a whole new sensation to rise. “Oh god, sweetie!”

He thrilled at the nickname. What had felt so condescending at first now felt like a brand, like a name she could call for ages and light years away and he’d know. And he would come running. He kissed just below her ear, his mouth dragging down along her jaw. “A little one,” he mumbled under her chin as his hands began roaming along all of that exposed skin. Up over her stomach, and was he really this _forward_ in this body? Apparently so, because she wasn’t protesting his behaviour and his hands were somehow cupping her breasts now, long fingers dipping into the black satin cups until her flesh filled his palm and _oh_  but she was lovely. All soft cool skin and stiff nipples that brushed his palms roughly.

“I – _ah_ – did you know, I was at the Devil’s Hump dig?” he looked up at her in shock at that, his eyes gleaming.

“Did you see me?” His other hand had snaked around to her back, where it was currently trying to figure out the mechanics of her bra clasp, never taking his eyes off her face.

“Mmmhmmm,” she nodded, her hand sliding up to stroke at the side of his face. “You didn’t see me though. I did like the cape,” she grinned down at him and he laughed out loud at that, surging forward to kiss her, his mouth over hers. She licked along his bottom lip, sucking it into her own mouth as her tongue slid against his own and he moaned, feeling suddenly very urgent in his quest to get her clothes off _right now_.

The clasp sprung open under his hand and she slid the bra from her own body, tossing it aside as she shoved his tweed off of his shoulders to land in a pile behind him, never pausing her mouth for a moment as she kissed, licked, nibbled and sucked at his.  His hands slid up her now bare back as she tugged his bow tie undone with expert ease. He bit back a smile – bow ties – he knew they were cool. He pulled back from her as her hands tugged down his braces and undid the buttons of his shirt quickly, his own hands weighing each breast as he pinched a the dark nipples, watching in fascination as they pebbled under his touch. “You are so unlike anything I’ve ever seen before,” he breathed the words out and she laughed as she pushed his shirt back.

“Oh, _honey_ , You have _no_  idea,” she laughed as she pushed him down until he was laying flat once more.  She scrambled backwards along his legs, her breasts swaying enticingly as he watched her flick open his trousers, peeling them open and pulling his pants and trousers down. He grabbed her, hauling her up toward him – he couldn’t have time to think – he just wanted – just wanted- his hands pulled her skirt up quickly and she sank against him, the flesh of her thighs pressed against his bare hips and he groaned at the feel of her.

Her skin was cool to the touch everywhere, oh but where she slid against him was so _warm_ and welcoming, he was barely aware of the tilt of his hips against hers that it took for him to nudge and slide his way inside of her. His hands gripped her hips as he gasped, or she gasped – there was definitely gasping happening. “No knickers Professor Song?” he barely managed to groan as she gasped again, her eyes connecting with his.

“Professor hmm? _Spoilers,_ ” she breathed the word out as she leaned forward to capture his mouth, her breasts pressing against his chest and he moaned into her mouth, his tongue wrapping around _hers_ this time as their hips moved sloppily over each others. He didn’t have the range of motion he’d have liked, but she felt _amazing_ , all wrapped around him so tightly he thought he might explode. “You taste like time,” she moaned the words as she pulled back and his hearts beat even faster in response. How could she even – but she was River Song, and he knew nothing and she knew everything, and he wanted to just bury himself inside of her until he discovered every secret. Even if it took him ages – he wanted to know.

He highly suspected by the time he did, he’d be so far gone over her, there would be no coming back. She thrust her hips down over his and he groaned, admitting if only to himself he was damn near half gone already. “River,” he breathed her name out, his mouth sliding along her cheeks, her nose, her mouth, her chin – anywhere he could reach really as everything within him tightened and tightened and all that energy seemed to gather in one point – where they were joined.

He could feel her tighten around him as she drove and dragged her hips down, short, breathy whinges in his ear, and softly exhaled _sweetie_ ’s on repeat. He concentrated on her voice, rich and smooth and throaty in his ear, where her lips brushed the lobe, how his fingers fit right in the indent of her hip – anything to stave off his own orgasm until she reached hers. All of a sudden she stiffened over him, her hips twisting down as her eyes darkened and her mouth opened. He watched every detail of her face, every muscle twitch, every breathy moan and grunt and groan – and she was _gorgeous_. Once she’s calmed, he thrust his own hips up, up, up – mindlessly seeking his own release – something so new for him – this body, this face, this woman – within a few strokes he was following her over the edge, his vision darkening as his focus narrowed entirely on to her, and how she felt around him, and her hand stroking his skin and her breathing and her mouth on his neck as his hands fisted in her hair and he pulled her in closer, closer, closer until he felt like maybe he might not be able to tell him from her and her from him.

Afterward they lay panting, a cool breeze drifting in from the open TARDIS doors. “Well, I wasn’t expecting this – not this young,” she chuckled into his chest, shifting and easing off of him with a sigh as she tucked herself into his side, her dress bunched around her waist and her hair an absolute mess.

He laughed out loud at that, his hand rubbing along her back, still tracing lazy circles over her skin. “You write my language,” he observed suddenly and she hummed in agreement.

‘Read and speak it too,” she confessed, pressing a kiss to his chest as she propped herself up, looking down at him.

‘Who _are_ you?” He asked idly, not really expecting an answer as he brought a hand up to trace along her nose and she grinned.

‘Not yet, sweetie,” she winked down at him and he giggled. “So home box, you said? I could isolate the isometry, plot the course and park us in a tick.”

“No,” he breathed the words out, his eyes wide. “You do _not_ know how to fly my TARDIS. _My_ TARDIS!”

She arched a brow at him, giggling once more before scrambling to her feet, dress pooling at her feet and utterly naked, and completely uncaring.

“Want to bet, sweetie?” She scampered up the stairs and he stared after her in shock.

He had a feeling he was wholly unprepared for adventuring with River Song. He felt he should feel more reluctant about the whole thing honestly – but how often did he have someone who could not only keep up with him, but who could very well get ahead of him?

He scrambled to his feet with a grin. “ _Ha_! You call _that_ flying the TARDIS?!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
